


Dreaming About Who I Wish I Was

by flyingtortoisetoes



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Consensual, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Excessive Drinking, F/F, Girls Kissing, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possibly Unrequited Love, Rating May Change, Sexuality Crisis, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28742838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingtortoisetoes/pseuds/flyingtortoisetoes
Summary: **on hold while i work on other stuff :)Despite the anger simmering in your gut, you find yourself leaning closer to her, drawn in by something blurry and just barely out of reach. “I’m fun,” you say again, fixing her with a level gaze that does not at all match your shaky breathing. You’re nervous.“Show me.”
Relationships: Aradia Megido/Vriska Serket, Sollux Captor & Aradia Megido
Kudos: 4





	1. Radioactive

**Author's Note:**

> Rework and reupload of a Vriska/Aradia fic I was working on. Not sure what the update schedule will look like since classes are starting up for me and I'm also working on another, much longer fic. This is more of a side project, but I definitely do plan on finishing it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the night, your heart is full  
> And by the morning, empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: nondescriptive mention of vomit

You watch her as she dances. Your eyes follow her body as she moves effortlessly along to the music, and at some point, you realize that this, that dancing, is second nature to her. It must be. You’re suddenly aware that, to her, dancing is just as natural as breathing. You consider this as your eyes travel up her long supermodel-like legs, almost of their own accord, and you decide that if dancing is like breathing, then she must have been starving for air.

You’re trying to be respectful, you really are. And the last thing you want is to come across as some creep, but as you admire the blue cocktail dress that seems to fit her perfectly, hugging her curves while at the same time billowing out to loosely frame her figure in just the right places, you can’t help yourself. 

She’s a work of art, you find yourself thinking. One that belongs in a museum, where you can look but you can’t touch. And you’d be fine with that, really. You think you could look at her all night, do nothing but bask in the radiance she gives off forever and ever. 

That being said, you’re drunk. You are very very drunk. You’ve already had your fair share of drinks tonight. You won’t deny any of these facts, but even in your inebriated state you’re certain that she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.

Your gaze lingers for a moment on her hips as they rotate and sway to the beat of the music, before lifting to her face. You take it slow, peruse the gallery with a sense of what could almost be described as wonder. You study the sharp, feminine curve of her jaw and the gentle slope of her nose, taking your time, and once again you’re struck by how undeniably beautiful she really is. It’s corny, maybe, and you’d die before admitting it out loud, but you think, not for the first time tonight, that she looks as if she were created just for you. If not to touch, then at the very least to admire. And you think you wouldn’t mind that terribly. 

A ghost of a smile flickers across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and your expression reverts back to one of barely bridled awe. You lift your eyes to the rest of her face and your breath catches in your throat. You aren't sure how long you've been staring at her, but right when you're starting to think that maybe it's getting a little weird and that maybe you should stop, she looks directly into your eyes.

You choke on your drink.

She doesn’t even flinch, just smirks and holds what might be the most intense eye contact you’ve ever been subjected to for a few horrible heartbeats, one eyebrow quirking up in amusement before she turns and disappears back into the crowd, melting into the puddle of dancing bodies.

Heat rushes to your face as soon as you’re released from her seemingly omnipotent gaze. You turn away so fast you won't be surprised if you wake up in the morning with whiplash. You grit your teeth, embarrassed you got caught staring. You stare into your drink for a moment and then down it in one go before signaling for another without so much as a moment’s hesitation. You're already well past the stage of toeing that fine line between drunk and wasted, that much has been established, so what's one more drink?

You sigh, suddenly feeling tired, and you rest your fingers on the edge of your martini glass, studying your tiny, warped reflection with bored interest. Your mind begins to wander as you nurse your drink, your thoughts returning to the girl on the dancefloor. You can see her in your mind's eye: swaying and swinging to the rhythm. You see her long black hair whirling around her face as she twists and twirls. You see her bright blue eyes flashing dangerously, framed by thick lashes. You see... oh. _Oh._

You inhale sharply and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to clear your mind. "Fuck," you exhale slowly, shakily, and press the heels of your hands against your eyelids. You're going to need another drink.

"Having fun?" A voice, much too loud for your quickly worsening mood, cuts through the relative quiet of the bar. You start, your eyes flying open, and you pivot in your seat to come face to face with _her._

Your brain short circuits and for a few awful, humiliating seconds you can't do anything other than stare, your mouth hanging slightly open, just enough to make you look like an idiot. As you stare at each other for those few horrible moments, the initial shock begins to subside, and you offer her a tight smile while at the same time mentally willing- no, _begging_ your eyes not to travel any lower than her neck.

It appears, however, that she isn’t in possession of the same sense of restraint that you are. She looks you up and down, her eyes settling on your chest for just long enough for it to be considered less than friendly and certainly not accidental. It isn't much, but it's enough to make you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Does she have no shame? You aren't used to being the focus of such brazen attention, especially from a... from a... no. _No._ Absolutely not. You are not going there. Not now. Not ever.

You’re drunk, you tell yourself, even as you swear her eyes are leaving a trail of fire in their wake up and down your body. No need to be worried, you think as your skin prickles hotly under her intense stare. You're drunk, you tell yourself again, trying not to think about how her eyes are dragging across your body like serrated knives, catching on your skin every so often and ripping free. You can't control your thoughts.

"Having fun." You repeat slowly, stupidly. 

She stares at you.

Oh, God. Your alcohol-induced flush deepens into a bright red blush that spreads over your face and down to your neck. You can't believe you just did that. You are so, so mortified. This is probably the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you. Why can't you think straight around this girl? 

Your mind races as you frantically try to come up with a way to laugh this off, to somehow make it less humiliating and awkward, but it's as if your mind has lost all communication with your body, and you freeze up. You become perfectly silent and your expression turns from horrified to completely neutral and impassive. After a few more seconds of loaded silence and she still not a word from her, you're just about ready to smash your martini glass and slit your own throat with the broken shards when suddenly she throws her head back and laughs.

It's a nice laugh, you think numbly. It's loud and full, and even though you're almost certain she's laughing at you, some tiny, traitorous part of yourself is pleased to have been the cause for such a laugh.

"You're drunk," she says after her laughter has subsided into tiny giggles, and you know she isn't asking you a question so much as she's stating a fact, so you offer her a small, shy smile before looking off to the side. "And you're alone," she muses, her tone questioning as she slides into the seat beside you, shifting her body so that her knees are pressed into the side of your thigh. 

Your attention snaps back to her when you feel bare skin sliding against yours. All of a sudden you feel hot. Feverish. You barely even notice yourself nodding in response.

She studies you for a moment longer but doesn't say anything else. Instead, she orders herself a rum and Coke, which is... interesting. You didn't have her pinned as a rum girl at all. "Are you?" You find yourself asking, your tongue heavy and your brain apparently still not caught up to the rest of you, because you aren’t even sure what you’re asking her.

She looks at you from out of the corner of her eye and smirks. "Am I?" She echoes, not unlike your earlier accidental mimicry of her, which causes you to color slightly. She laughs, but somehow you know it isn't meant to be cruel. Her expression softens just a touch. “Are you asking me if I’m drunk? Or if I’m alone?" 

"Does it matter?" You shrug noncommittally. Unsure of where else to look, you decide to settle your gaze on her eyebrows. You watch vapidly as they rise, either in surprise or in contemplation, you’re not sure which, and wait for her answer.

She takes a slow, thoughtful sip from her drink. "Yes," she says slowly, "I think it does.” 

You just nod, uncertain.

There's a beat of silence, and when she starts speaking again, her tone has changed. It's silkier, darker, and you can't stop the shiver that shoots down your spine. "Well?" She asks. "Aren't you going to ask me why?" 

You swallow nervously and open your mouth to do exactly that, but it's suddenly too dry and you can't get the words out. You close your mouth, tentatively redirect your attention to her eyes, which seem to want to suck you in. When you finally find your voice, your "why?" comes out hushed and breathless. 

She grins like the cat that got the cream and leans in closer to you. Her lips ghost across your ear. "You're drunker than I am," she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear, "and I don't typically make it a habit of taking home girls as drunk as you."

Your bottom lip wobbles and you pretend you don't notice your legs shaking or that sometime over the past few minutes your knees have pressed themselves tightly together. You exhale softly, not sure if you should feel disappointed or relieved. "Oh."

She pulls back and fixes you with a thoughtful look, though her eyes are simmering darkly with intensity and promise. "But, just this once... maybe I can make an exception. For you."

Your brain short circuits for what is already the second time tonight and your mind goes completely blank before suddenly kick-starting again with a suddenness that is overwhelming, racing thoughts. "I-I don't... I don't even know your name," you blurt, and for a split second she looks taken aback, but it doesn't last long and before you know it, she's giving you a reassuring smile that doesn't match the hungry gleam in her eyes as she leans a little closer.

"Are names important?" Her lips are dangerously close to yours, making it difficult to focus on what's being said.

"Well I,” you stop and waver with uncertainty before continuing, “I don't want to go home with a stranger." Your words come out in a rush, shocking you. You're fully aware that they could be taken two very different ways, but you're even more painfully aware that you don't even know which way you meant them, and it takes every ounce of self-constraint you have within yourself to not run away right then and there. You’re so embarrassed you don’t even want to look at her. So instead, you sit there in heavy silence until it's broken.

"...Vriska." 

You frown and lift your eyes to hers. "What?"

"My name. It's Vriska." She props her elbow up on the bar and rests her chin in her palm. She isn't looking at you. In fact, it feels like she's looking everywhere but you, a stark contrast from her previous brazen attitude.

"Oh, " you say, surprised. You chew on your lip. "Vriska," her name feels weird, foreign on your tongue, but you don't hate it. Satisfied, you smile at her, mirroring her unexpected shyness. "Okay." You nod. "I'm Aradia."

Vriska meets your gaze and you notice the faint flush in her cheeks. She smiles back, almost sheepishly. "Well Aradia," she says, and you tense up, mentally preparing yourself for the _not strangers anymore, now are we?_ comment. "Do you want to dance?"

***

_Do you want to dance?_

Vriska’s words ring in your ears as you stare at her, your brows furrowed in drunken contemplation while you grapple sluggishly with the muddled mess of your thoughts. You’re well aware that your mind probably isn’t functioning at its prime right now, but… you’re still certain you heard her right. 

_Do you want to dance?_

You arch an eyebrow. Hadn’t this girl just been suggesting the two of you get in each other’s pants? Had you interpreted her wrong or something? 

You study her for a second. No, you decide. You hadn’t misinterpreted anything. You remember _very_ clearly how hellbent she’d seemed on taking you home with her. So much so, that she was apparently perfectly willing to disregard any sort of moral obligation that would have normally kept her from taking a drunk girl home. And you’re not sure how that makes you feel. You sigh and pull out a cigarette from your purse, fumbling drunkenly for a moment with your lighter before it catches, and you sigh in relief. You don’t smoke much, mostly saving it for emergencies when you’re stressed or feeling anxious, but the way you already know this conversation will be going, you decide that this is one of those times. 

“Dance?” You echo, your tone heavy with skepticism. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” you drawl, “but weren't you just insinuating that you want to sleep with me? Even though I’m drunker than you?”

She looks embarrassed and you almost feel bad as you watch her squirm awkwardly under your gaze, but then you recall how she had made you feel not just five minutes ago and your sympathy quickly fades.

“Did it- oh, did it seem like I was? I mean, no. I-I wasn’t. Hey, you are pretty drunk, huh?” 

You fix her with a look of disbelief and she holds your gaze for a while before looking away and letting out a long, incredibly drawn out sigh. _Wow,_ you think, _overdramatic much?_

“Okay! Okay fiiiiiiiine,” she says, sounding just as exasperated as you feel, which is sort of out of pocket, but whatever. “I did kinda sorta want to maybe hook up with you possibly, okay? But what I said about not making it a habit to take girls home when they’re drunk off their ass was true! It _is_ true.”

“But for me you can make an exception, isn’t that right?” You deadpan, repeating what she had said just earlier. 

“Well I wouldn’t have actually done it. Jesus.” She rolls her eyes, adding an annoying whine to her voice. “Okay look,” she says, “you’re just, I don’t know, you’re just different. Fuck. What do you want me to say? You don’t take no shit and you fight back. You aren’t easy, and I guess, well I guess I like that. I mean, shit, I don’t know what else to say. What else do you want to hear? What else do you _need_ to hear?” 

You stare at her. There is no conceivable way that this girl could possibly be for real. “You like me because I fight back,” you say slowly, repeating her words, “and because I’m not easy.” You give her a moment to process your— _her_ —words and what you had just said before sighing and lacing your fingers together. “What I’m getting from this quite frankly exhausting conversation, Vriska, is that you like a challenge.”

She beams and begins to nod frantically, opening her mouth to say something, but you talk right over her. “Do you even realize how rapey that sounds?” 

It works. Vriska freezes mid sentence, her mouth hanging open slightly. You hadn’t been listening to whatever illogical, idiotic nonsense she had undoubtedly been spewing, but you figure it probably wasn’t too important anyway. 

She blinks at you a couple times, seemingly at a loss for words, and that split second of hesitation is enough for you to decide that this girl is batshit fucking crazy and if you did go home with her, you’d likely end up dead with all your body parts stuffed in various suitcases and scattered throughout the city. You scoff.

“Thanks,” you say, starting to stand up, “but no thanks.”

“Wait.” Vriska’s hand shoots out and wraps around your upper arm. 

You pause and take a drag from your cigarette as you hover halfway out of your seat. “Yes?”

“You’re right,” she says, “It does sound sort of weird. I didn’t even think of it like that, but I promise you I don’t mean it in that way.” The look she’s giving you is so serious that you find yourself sinking back into your seat, silent. “At all.” 

You don’t say anything, so she keeps going, still holding on to your arm. “You’re not just different because of that. I mean, I do like the challenge, even if that does make me sound… rapey,” she grimaces at the word, “but it isn’t just that. You’re… you’ve got something else, and I don’t know what it is, exactly, but I like it.” She pauses. “I _really_ like it, and I want to get to know you more.” 

Well, shit. You don’t really know what to say to that, but you do sink back into your seat slowly, your eyes trained on her hand that is still wrapped around your bicep. “I don’t dance,” you say finally, not sure what else to say. 

Vriska releases you and leans back, staring, for once, at your face instead of at your body. “You don’t dance,” she repeats and you nod stiffly. “But you’re... at a club.” 

You nod again. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Why?” She looks so endearingly confused that, despite your better judgement, you decide to take pity on her. 

“I like to drink,” you tell her.

“But the drinks are so expensive here.” Her face is scrunched up in confusion and it takes all you have to not laugh at the irony of it.

You shrug. “They’re also really good,” you say and don’t offer any other explanation. It’s not like you even have any other explanation. You usually prefer to just drink cheap beer at home alone.  
Tonight’s different. You were bored, you had nothing else going on, you decided to put on one of your skimpier dresses and go out… but you’re not about to tell this girl that. 

“Can I get your number?” Vriska asks, and now it’s your turn to stare.

What the fuck? 

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops slightly. 

“Yeah, why not?” She responds, picking at her fingernails absentmindedly as if she didn’t just completely change the subject to ask you something that is just not in any way, shape, or form plausible. 

“You’re drunk,” you say, incredulous. 

“So are you.” 

She has a point. You pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut. God dammit, you don’t even like girls. You _can’t_. Not that that’s a bad thing, it just… isn’t you. So why are you even considering this? Why are you still here? 

You sigh and open your eyes. You take one last drag from your cigarette before flicking the butt into an ashtray on the bar. 

“Fine,” you say irritably. “If only to get you to shut up.” 

Vriska looks absolutely overjoyed. Her face lights up when she breaks out into a huge grin and your heart clenches. You lick your lips nervously, shaking your head to try to regain your composure. 

“If you spam me I’m blocking your ass,” you warn, pulling your phone from your purse and handing it to her. 

She nods while the two of you exchange contact information, but you’re not sure if she’s actually listening.

“So,” she says once both phones have been returned, “how about that dance?” She wiggles her eyebrows in what’s probably supposed to be a suggestive manner, but it just makes you laugh. It looks ridiculous.

“I don’t dance. I already told you.” 

Vriska pouts. She _actually_ pouts and starts to poke your arm like a petulant child trying to get their mother’s attention. “You’re no fun.” 

You scoff. “I’m fun.”

She raised an eyebrow and you can tell she doesn’t believe you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

She smirks. “I don’t believe you,” she says, her voice tantalizing and silky, threatening to pull you in and never let you go. 

Despite the anger simmering in your gut, you find yourself leaning closer to her, drawn in by something blurry and just barely out of reach. “I’m fun,” you say again, fixing her with a level gaze that does not at all match your shaky breathing. You’re nervous.

“Show me.” Her tone changes in an instant, low and sultry, and you’re instantly reminded of what had originally drawn you to her in the first place. 

She drops her gaze to your lips before raising it back up to your eyes, the intensity of it pinning you to where you sit.

You can’t blink, you can’t breathe, you can only watch as she leans in, her lips now dangerously close to your own. Your chest feels tight and your stomach fills with nervous butterflies, but you can’t move. You feel frozen and you’re not getting any more sober just sitting here. 

“How?” You breathe, dropping your eyes to her lips and watching as they curve into a sly little smile that sends a chill up your spine.

She leans in, almost closing the gap between the two of you but not quite. You can barely feel her lips brushing against yours and by now you’re nearly melting in your seat, embarrassingly enough, but all thoughts of embarrassment are shoved to the back of your mind for later contemplation and face-palming. You’re here now and this is what you are going to focus on.

“Dance with me,” she whispers against your lips, and you shudder at the movement, momentarily distracted. 

“I… I…” you falter, dizzy with desire and momentarily confused. What did she say? What were you talking about? Then finally you find the words you had been reaching for, “I don’t know how.” 

Vriska pulls away and a tiny, traitorous part of you is disappointed. The suddenness of it clouding your mind and confusing you. 

She laughs goodnaturedly, as if she hasn’t just given you several sexuality crises over the course of just a few minutes. “Well why didn’t you say so? I can teach you.” 

It takes you a moment to realize what’s just happened, but when you do your jaw drops in disbelief. Your face burns and your stomach twists with shame. You don’t understand this girl at all, but you _want_ to. You want to understand her, to know her. You want it more than anything you’ve ever wanted before. 

But it may be too much.

You straighten your posture and clear your throat, looking away. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” you say.

From the corner of your eye you can see Vriska’s face fall. Your heart clenches, but you shake the feeling away. You aren’t attracted to other girls. And even if you were, you wouldn’t- _couldn’t_ be attracted to this one. It would just be setting you up for heartache and disappointment. 

Vriska stands up, holding a glass of… is that straight rum?... in her hand. She slams the remainder of her drink back and holds up the now empty glass, making drunken gestures with it. 

You open your mouth to say something, likely to tell her to sit down before she hurts herself, but before you can say anything, she starts to speak. 

“Aradia Megido,” she says, her tone grandiose but her words slurring together as she sways above you. 

You stare up at her, silenced for now. You’re entranced, on the edge of your seat, despite your best efforts to maintain an air of nonchalance. Vaguely, somewhere within your brain’s liquor-induced haze, you think she’s probably going to say something redeeming, or at the very least interesting. 

“I don’t know you.”

You blink once. Twice. Three times. Waiting for her to say something else, to rekindle your intrigue, but she says nothing. She just stares back down at you, meeting your less than impressed gaze. 

She’s drunk, you decide. Really fucking drunk.

“...Yes,” you offer after a rather uncomfortable silence, not sure what else there is for you to say. 

“I don’t know you,” she continues, once again gesticulating drunkenly, “but Aradia Megido, I would really _really_ like to.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. 

Vriska slows her movements and looks down at you, an alien fondness in her eyes that you try to ignore. “If you’ll let me,” she finishes, her voice soft.

A strange numbness settles over you. It isn’t a bad sort of numbness, though. It’s actually rather nice, you find yourself thinking. You feel warm and calm, very unlike the heat and the severity you were feeling earlier, but just as welcome. 

_Yes_ , you think. You _will_ let her. 

You can feel the words you need to consent threatening to spill over, so you open your mouth to say yes, but no words come out, and you realize too late that it was never words rising in your throat.

You puke all over the floor.


	2. Softcore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're like the sun, you wake me up  
> But you drain me out if I get too much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter.  
> consent is sexy.

“Christ.”

Vriska’s looking at you, her expression equal parts disgusted and impressed. If you weren’t feeling like you could pass out at any moment, you would probably find the face she’s pulling funny. But you can’t get your thoughts in order for long enough to even consider the comedic potential the look on Vriska’s face holds, so instead you just grimace.

“You should’ve done that in your hand or something,” Vriska says, unbothered by the withering gaze you’ve fixed on her.

“Should I have?” Your tone is dry, unamused, though your blunt sarcasm doesn’t quite have the effect you’d hoped it would, your words coming out slurred thanks to the alcohol weighing down your tongue… and the rest of your body, for that matter.

Your head pounds and your vision has gone blurry. You groan softly and lift a hand to your head. Fuck, you don’t feel good.

Vriska’s expression goes from amused to concerned within an instant. Her eyebrows knit together and her hand hovers over your shoulder as if she isn’t sure if she can touch you or not. If you didn’t feel as if you were about to pass out right then and there, you probably would have laughed at the sudden change in atmosphere and her sudden awkward eagerness to help.

“Hey Aradia you’re not looking too good,” she says, shifting on her feet.

This is so humiliating. You just met this girl and you’ve already made a fool out of yourself countless times. Your face goes hot, either from the embarrassment or from the nausea, you’re not sure which. You guess it doesn’t really matter. Why do you always get hung up over the stupid little details when you’re drunk?

“Yeah, well. I don’t feel so good,” you say, unable to summon the strength to even roll your eyes at your own pathetic response. You feel queasy and gross. You definitely drank too much. Or at least way more than you're used to.

Vriska chews on her lip in contemplation, swaying on her feet ever so slightly, and with a tiny flash of envy you’re reminded that she’s just as drunk as you, if not more, and yet she’s somehow managed to maintain an appearance of sobriety. She looks as elegant as she did when you first caught sight of her on the dancefloor.

You scowl and she seems to take notice.

“Er… maybe you should… maybe it’s best if you- if we get out of here, y’know?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Not this bullshit again.

You sigh and start to shake your head. “No, Vriska,” you say, “I already told you. I’m not going home with you when I’m like this.”

"What?" It’s Vriska’s turn to shake her head. She looks positively scandalized. “No! No, no. God, no. I meant why don’t I take you back to _your_ place?”

Upon realizing what she had said, you flush and look away. You cannot believe you just blatantly assumed she would still want to take you back to her place. _Especially_ after you had just barely missed vomiting on her.

“I won’t even stay if you don’t want me to,” Vriska continues, and you feel a small twinge of guilt.

You worry your lip between your teeth, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to get your thoughts in order. Finally, you sigh and nod. You’re too tired to think everything through and your thoughts are still muddled by the copious amounts of liquor you had consumed. Arguing is too much effort, you decide. “Okay,” you say.

You trail behind Vriska in a haze as she weaves expertly through the throng of closely packed bodies dancing and mingling. You grimace and squint your eyes against the flashing lights. Has the music been this loud the whole night? Fuck your head hurts.

Somehow the two of you make it to the front of the club and you’re standing outside. It’s cold and the only lights are from the lone streetlight on the sidewalk and the strobes from the club behind you. Vriska’s standing beside you, the warmth from her body seeming to pull you in close to her, so close that you’re practically slumped against her side. You fix your eyes on Vriska’s mouth. It’s moving. Is she saying something? God, she has such a pretty mouth. You wonder what it would be like to kiss her. You’ve never kissed a girl before. It can’t be too different from kissing a boy, can it? Her lips look soft and you can’t stop looking at them. Your heart hammers in your chest and you feel breathless just from looking at her. You think-

“-radia!”

You jolt, flinching away from Vriska and her warmth. You blink rapidly and shake your head as if you could shake away your thoughts. Had you really been thinking about _kissing_ Vriska? What’s gotten into you tonight?

“What?” You snap finally, willfully ignoring the faint tremor in your voice.

Vriska fixes you with an odd expression. She opens her mouth to say something and then closes it, looking away and shaking her head. “The cab,” she mutters, “it’s here.”

The small twinge of guilt you’d felt earlier grows to a leaden weight and lodges itself in your chest. An apology rests heavily on your tongue, but you bite it back and slip into the cab, taking care not to meet Vriska’s eyes.

Softly, you give the driver instructions to your apartment, and then settle back into your seat, resting your head against the cool window.

“I don’t understand you,” Vriska murmurs from behind you. You pretend not to hear her and stay motionless until you hear her sigh and turn to look out her own window.

Once you’re sure she’s no longer looking at you, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your whole body slumps against the cab door, a sudden exhaustion washing over you like nothing else you’d felt tonight and settling over your bones like a particularly unpleasant weighted blanket. It fits right in with all your mixed emotions.

The rest of the ride is silent.

By the time the cab pulls up to your building, you can barely keep your eyes open. You let Vriska help you out of the vehicle, trying not to think about how good her hand feels on her back as she steadies you once you’re on your feet.

“Do you have your key?” Vriska asks, not really looking at you.

You nod, your heart clenching at the indifference in Vriska’s tone.

The two of you make it up the stairs slowly, Vriska holding onto you with a firm grip so that you don’t fall. It should feel demeaning. You should want to push her off of you. But it doesn’t. And you don’t. Some tiny, traitorous part of you is enjoying her touch, even if it’s just to keep you steady while you’re drunk off your ass, and you know it. You try to resent yourself for it, but you find that you can’t.

You must fumble with your keys for one second too long once you reach your door because after trying and failing to fit your key into the lock for the fifth time, Vriska sighs and snatches your keys from you, unlocking and opening the door herself. She tosses you your keys back as soon as you’ve both stepped into the apartment.

You mumble a slightly embarrassed ‘thanks’ and drops your keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter.

When you turn back around, Vriska is wandering around your living room, stopping every once in a while to peer at a framed photo or to flip through a book.

The silence is stifling. You don’t think you can take one more second of the quiet awkwardness that’s threatening to wrap itself around your body and suffocate you.

“My roommate is out,” you blurt.

Oh God, why did you say that? You could have said _anything_. Anything at all, and you chose to say _that?_

Vriska cocks her head when she looks at you, one eyebrow raised and her lips curled into an amused little smile. “Oh really?”

You flush and flounder for a response.

She laughs and flops down onto your couch, kicking off her heels and propping her feet up on the coffee table. “Relax,” she says, “I’m kidding.” Her gaze lingers on you for another moment before she abruptly looks away, busying herself with studying your bookshelves.

“Your roommate,” she says after a short silence, “Is that him?”

You look to where she’s pointing, at the framed photo resting on your mantle.

You’re nodding and dropping beside her onto the couch before you can think better of it. “His name’s Sollux,” you tell her.

She makes a small noise in the back of her throat that you can’t interpret and you cast a confused glance at her. “He your boyfriend?” She’s looking anywhere but at you and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

“ _What?_ ” You shake your head, trying to hold in your giggles. “You seriously think _he’s_ my boyfriend? Him? _Sollux?_ ” You’re laughing out loud now. “He’s my best friend. I’ve known him for ages.”

Vriska’s face goes red, eliciting more laughs from you. You hold your stomach, grinning.

“Why?” You ask, fighting to keep your face straight once your laughing has subsided. “You jealous?” You’re exhausted and you’re still drunk, and as a result, everything is funnier than it should be, but being this close to Vriska again is intoxicating. Her aura washes over you, giving you a boost of confidence you probably wouldn’t have, were you sober and well-rested.

Vriska shrugs. “Maybe.” Her tone is both stubborn and coy. She looks over at you from beneath lowered eyelids and tilts her head down ever so slightly, lips quirking into a sly smirk. “Do you want me to be?”

Your breath catches in your throat. Heat pools low in your stomach and you find yourself pulling your shaking legs in close to you, crossing them. “Maybe,” you whisper back, your voice low and raspy, barely loud enough to be heard.

Vriska shifts so that she’s fully facing you. Her eyes are dark and lock onto yours as she inches closer. Her movements are slow, painfully slow, as she rests one hand on your jaw and the other on your thigh. She leans in, her lips almost brushing against yours.

A small, strangled sound escapes your throat, surprising even you. You begin to pull away, but you don't even have time to feel embarrassed because in one fluid movement Vriska pulls you back in and presses her lips against yours. You practically melt into the kiss, closing your eyes and tilting your head to deepen it.

The hand on your thigh gently pries your legs apart as Vriska carefully pushes you down into the couch, straddling your hips. She breaks the kiss to press her lips against your jaw and plants soft little kisses all along your jawline before moving to your neck. She buries her head in the crook of your throat and you gasp softly when you feel her teeth against your skin. The pain quickly turns to pleasure and your head falls back, exposing your throat even more to the girl on top of you. 

"Vriska," you mumble as she slips one hand up your dress, using the other to prop herself up above you.

"Yeah?" Her breath is hot against your throat and you instantly forget what you were going to say. It probably wasn't too important anyway.

"Nothing," you say.

She pulls her hand from your dress and detaches herself from your neck, sitting up to look at you, her face slightly flushed and her hair tangled around her shoulders. "You're okay with this? For sure?"

You lock eyes with her. "Yes," you breathe.

She smiles and presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth before sliding a hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took so long to get around to updating and that's my bad lol. I've been totally swamped with schoolwork and my major is kicking my ass for literally no reason, but the good news is I will hopefully be able to get around to updating fics semi-regularly again because I dropped a class that was taking up a lot of my time and draining my energy.
> 
> anyways, this chapter ended up being a lot shorter than i had initially planned, but the next chapters should be significantly longer. i have good plans for this fic lol.


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